


icarus, point to the sun

by apollothyme



Series: as long as the stars are above you [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Barebacking, Grand Prix Final, M/M, Riding, bottom otabek, gold metal kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9196628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothyme/pseuds/apollothyme
Summary: The sound of the crowd roaring inside the stadium only hit him once he had started skating towards the exit, making Otabek smile. “Such a rare occurrence,” he heard the commentator say.Multiple bouquets of flowers were thrown on the ice for him. Otabek waved at the crowd and picked one full of orchids before he left. Usually, these were reserved for Yuri, but this year it seemed the crowd favored him.What a disconcerting thought that was.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Icaro, apuntando al sol (Traducción)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422603) by [BekaBlackSL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekaBlackSL/pseuds/BekaBlackSL)



The only thing he could hear when he stopped spinning was the sound of his heartbeat clamoring inside his ears. It was a deafening noise, like the clap of a giant drum, creating such a large echo that it drowned out the rest of the world.

Otabek’s chest moved in big, heaving motions as he tried to catch his breath. He would need a few more minutes before he stopped panting and even longer for his heart to stop thundering inside his chest, but that didn’t stop his body from flushing with warmth as he realized what he had just accomplished.

He had done it. He had _finally_ done it. He had practiced for months on end, pushed himself harder than ever before and prepared a routine that would give him the highest technical score out of all competitors for that year’s Grand Prix Final. It was a challenge from start to finish and Otabek’s body had earned more than enough bruises to show for it, but it was all worth it for this single moment, for when he did the only thing he could do — the only thing he would ever allow himself to do — and gave his best performance to date.

The sound of the crowd roaring inside the stadium only hit him once he had started skating towards the exit, making Otabek smile. “Such a rare occurrence, _”_ he heard the commentator say.

Multiple bouquets of flowers were thrown on the ice for him. Otabek waved at the crowd and picked one full of orchids before he left. Usually, these were reserved for Yuri, but this year it seemed the crowd favored him.

What a disconcerting thought that was.

He was still smiling by the time he got to the kiss and cry, which only made the crowd even more excited. Before the final, Otabek's routine had been at the center of the rumor mill. Talks of this being the year for a new face to take the podium filled the gossip magazines, raising people's expectations for him. Otabek had never cared much for what people said about him, but he could never deny his first and only dream.

“I want to bring a gold medal from the Grand Prix to my country. I want to make the Kazakhstani people proud,” he had said for years and years and he had never doubted it, not once, not even after seeing Victor, Yuri and Yuuri take the golden stage for so long.

His coach sat next to him while they waited for the results, an arm wrapped around Otabek's shoulders and a huge smile on his face.

"This is it, Otabek. This is it! All your hard work is about to pay off. I couldn't be prouder," he said.

Otabek shook his head and looked down, feeling his cheeks flush all over before he got a grip on himself. He felt like the whole world was about to explode or maybe it was just him. He didn't want to get too excited before his score was released in case that—

"And it's 198.3 points to Otabek Altin's Free Skate performance! What a phenomenal result for the Kazakhstani skater, who is now leading the scoreboard with a combined score of 295.7! The only skater left is Guang-Hong Ji, who needs a miracle performance to best Altin's score," the commentator said and the world burst into noise once more. 

Otabek hugged his coach and laughed as his heart swelled inside his chest. “Thank you so much,” he said as the camera lights flashed in front of them.

“The praise is all yours, son. There are few people out there more hard-working than you,” his coach said, patting him on the back a few times before they stepped apart.

After he had left the kiss and cry bench, Otabek’s eyes tracked the crowd around him in search of the only person he wanted to have by his side. He frowned when he realized he couldn’t find Yuri anywhere, but he didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on that before someone tackled him from behind.

“Otabek, we’re so proud of you! What an amazing performance! The way you moved, it was like watching a fairytale come to life. You even made Yuuri cry,” Victor said as he clutched Otabek against his chest and lifted him from the ground.

By Otabek’s side, Yuuri rolled his eyes and stepped forward to say, “Victor cried as well. It really was amazing, Otabek. Congratulations.”

He was less enthusiastic than Victor, but then again everyone on earth was less enthusiastic than Victor Nikiforov. Once Otabek was no longer being held like some kind of teddy bear, Yuuri stepped forward to give him a hug and mess with his hair.

“Thanks,” Otabek replied, taking a deep breath through his nose.

“How do you feel?” Yuuri asked. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Otabek confessed. There were too many thoughts and emotions going through his head for him to put them into words Yuuri and Victor could understand. He’d grown closer to them ever since he moved to Russia four years ago, but there were still many things he couldn’t share with them.

“You should get ready. You’re about to take the central stage again,” Victor said, giving him a wink and a thumbs up.

Otabek ignored him so he could ask, “Have you seen Yuri anywhere?”

“He was here just a minute ago watching you skate. I’m sure he’s around somewhere. He’ll probably take the podium with you,” Yuuri said, making Otabek frown.

It wasn’t unusual for Yuri to disappear during competitions when he got bored, but it was rare for him to leave Otabek without saying a word, especially now, when Otabek was so close to getting his first gold medal at a Grand Prix final. Otabek searched the crowd once more, but it was harder to see in the dark and his eyes wouldn’t adjust.

As Guang-Hong Ji finished his performance and left the ice, he stopped by Otabek’s side to give him a quick hug. “Congratulations, you did super well!” 

“You too,” Otabek said out of politeness since he hadn’t watched a single minute of Ji’s skating.

Ji shrugged. “Not as good as you. Maybe next year,” he said before he moved on.

He was right. When the scores were announced, Guang-Hong Ji placed fourth, ranking above Christoper and JJ. Above him were Yuri, Seung-gil Lee and Otabek.

Even as the announcers called them towards the podium, Otabek didn’t stop searching the crowd for Yuri’s face. He was sure he wouldn’t skip on receiving his medal. Upset or not, Yuri wasn’t a kid anymore and he wouldn’t throw a tantrum just because he didn’t get gold.

At least that was what Otabek hoped. The more seconds trickled by without Yuri showing up, the more he worried. Yuri was used to winning gold at every competition and on the few occasions he was dethroned he always grew a little testy, which was Otabek’s nice way of saying Yuri developed pyromaniac tendencies and needed at least a full day away from figure skating before he calmed down.

Despite the obvious anger issues, Yuri’s anger was never directed at him, not even when it was Otabek who bested him. In fact, if anything, Yuri was always much calmer when Otabek won, often stating that it was fine since “at least someone decent won.”

As he skated towards the podium, Otabek schooled his face into a neutral expression. Seung-gil Lee was already by his side, looking as detached as ever. The two of them must make quite a pair. _The impassive duo_ the media called them. Kinda catchy.

Yuri showed up after they had climbed onto their respective spots, but he didn’t so much as glance at Otabek while he skated to his place. In fact, he wasn’t looking at anyone, his eyes holding that characteristic gaze of someone who was completely zoned out. Otabek felt a familiar weight of worry settled in his stomach before he became distracted by the commentators announcing his victory.

A crown of flowers was put on his head after the gold medal went around his neck. Otabek smiled and waved at the crowd. He couldn’t hold back the tears when Kazakhstan’s national anthem started playing and for once he was fine with showing his weak side to the world. He was the first skater in history to win gold at the Grand Prix for Kazakhstan and no one could ever take that away from him.

When he was done wiping tears and the crowd’s cheering went from deafening to just extremely loud, Otabek tried to catch up to Yuri, but the other skater was faster than him. In just a few seconds, he disappeared into the throng of people waiting for them by the exit while Otabek was forced to stay behind and do a couple of interviews.

He wasn’t sure what he said besides the basic “Yes, I’m very proud,” and “No, I’m not thinking of retiring now that I’ve won gold. I’m only twenty-four, I still have a few years on ice ahead of me.”

By his side, Victor and Yuuri were also answering a few questions of their own. Even though they’d both retired — Viktor four and Yuuri two years before — they were both still extremely popular within the figure skating circle and the “wow these two gay men are really cute and talented” circle. Otabek watched them out the corner of his eye for a few seconds before he exhaled and tried to pay attention to the journalists.

He stayed with the reporters for a few minutes more before caving in and departing with a quick excuse of needing to rest before the banquet that night. He wasn’t surprised to find that Yuri and all of his belongings were gone from the locker room by the time he got there, nor was he shocked when Viktor — Yuri’s coach — told him he had absolutely no idea where Yuri had gone.

“He’s probably gone back to your hotel room,” Yuuri said.

Otabek accepted that explanation and decided he’d go after him after he showered. The scalding water was heaven on his sore muscles, making the tension evaporate from his body. 

He took the bike he had rented through the streets of Berlin as he made his way to their hotel, which was only a few minutes away. Now that he was alone his worries from earlier hit him again, this time with full force. His mind conjured the wildest scenarios about Yuri’s absence — Yuri was sick. He was retiring. He was angry at Otabek for stealing gold from him, even though tonight had arguably been Otabek’s performance of a lifetime and Yuri’s technical score had fifteen points less than his.

Some scenarios were wilder than others — the one where Yuri cheated on him with JJ and planned on emigrating to Canada was particularly traumatizing — but they all did what they were meant for, which was stress Otabek beyond belief.

He didn’t run back to the hotel room after parking his bike, but he would have a hard time denying that his little power walk.

It took him more than one try to fit the keycard in the slot before he slung the door open and then the whole world stopped spinning, just for a fraction of a second, when Otabek saw Yuri sitting on their bed. He couldn’t hide his sigh of relief, nor could he hide his surprised yelp when Yuri all but ran and threw himself at him.

Otabek got the air knocked out of his lungs when Yuri pushed him against the nearest wall, one hand grabbing Otabek’s jaw as the other slammed the door shut. He didn’t have time to say anything before they were kissing, or more like Otabek was being kissed because _holy fuck_ , what a kiss that was.

Yuri nipped on his bottom lip until Otabek opened his mouth, letting Yuri lick his way inside Otabek’s mouth and pull their bodies flush together. One of Yuri’s knees parted Otabek’s legs, their height difference making it easy for Yuri to rub against Otabek, making him moan into his mouth.

“Took you long enough,” Yuri said after they’d parted for air.

Otabek got exactly enough time to say, “What—“ before Yuri was pulling him in for another dizzying kiss, the kind that seemed to turn Otabek’s knees into jelly and make him question which way was up and which way was the bed.

“You were so _good_ ,” Yuri whispered against his lips, pulling back long enough to leave a trail of kisses on Otabek’s jaw, going from his mouth to his left ear. “So fucking good. I couldn’t be prouder, Beka. You’re incredible,” Yuri said, finishing his confession with a sharp bite to Otabek’s neck that was sure to leave a mark.

“So you’re not angry?” Otabek asked — more like gasped, if he was honest. He was having trouble catching up with the current happenings, what with Yuri’s mouth lavishing a world of promises against his skin and his knee pressing against Otabek’s crotch.

“Why would I be angry?”

“I don’t know. You left without saying anything, so I assumed you were pissed at me for taking the gold.”

Yuri grabbed his jaw and pulled it up, taking Otabek’s mouth in another kiss at the same time as one of his hands pulled Otabek’s hair with just enough strength to make Otabek keen. “I’m not pleased for having gotten bronze, I never am, but you deserved this, babe. Back at the rink, all I wanted was to jump you right then and there. I swear if Victor hadn’t held me back I would have fucked you right there on the ice.”

Otabek flat out shuddered when Yuri said that, his entire body trembling underneath Yuri’s nimble hands.

He’d pictured so many explanations for Yuri’s behavior at the rink, but never this, although maybe he should have expected the unpredictable. After all, he’d known since the day they met that Yuri Plisetsky was someone who would always surprise him.

“You can fuck me now,” he suggested. Yuri flashed in a predatory grinned before he bit another mark on Otabek’s neck, this time a little lower so that the mark was even more visible than the last.

“I plan to,” he whispered, forcing Otabek to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from making any more embarrassing noises.

Otabek had always found Yuri attractive. Back when they were younger, he found Yuri’s lithe strength enrapturing. He loved the way Yuri always moved with such grace and how his body seemed to obey his every command. His flexibility alone was fuel for one too many sex dreams, although thankfully those only started after they got together.

Everything about Yuri was beautiful, but now that he was older he had grown into something more. His jaw was sharper, his back and shoulders firmer. He was a lot taller, with his last growth spurt taking him past the 175 cm mark. His hair was longer now as well, trailing past his shoulders until the middle of his back, although lately, Yuri had been talking about cutting it short. Otabek was fine with it either way. Everything about Yuri drew him in like he was a fish looking for bait, especially when Yuri was like this.

_Possessive_ may not have been the right word, but it was the only one Otabek could think of.

Yuri pulled down the zipper on Otabek’s jacket as he made sure the hickeys on Otabek’s neck stayed put with another few bites, but he stopped when he saw what was above Otabek’s sweatshirt. 

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, sounding a little bit in awe as he grabbed the golden medal slung around Otabek’s neck and gave it a little stroke with his thumb. “You’re so amazing, Beka. I want you to take your clothes off for me, but leave the medal, alright? I want to fuck you with that gold around your neck so that you always remember me — _us_ — when you look at it,” Yuri said, punctuating his words with a few presses of his knee against Otabek’s dick.

“Come on.” Yuri took stepped backwards, making Otabek follow after him with the grip he kept on the medal until he could sit on the bed.

Otabek didn’t need to be told twice. He took off his jacket first, tossing it into some random corner and following it with his boots and pants. He didn’t bother putting on a show, he was way too keyed up for that and he was sure Yuri was too. He looked over at his boyfriend after he’d taken off his sweatshirt and felt his breath hitch when he saw Yuri stroking himself, his sweatpants pulled down just past his thighs.

“Boxers as well,” Yuri said when he noticed Otabek had stopped moving.

“Right,” Otabek agreed. 

He didn’t feel embarrassed as he pushed down his boxers and stepped out of them, although he couldn’t stop the flush that spread from his cheeks and up his ears when Yuri started to look him up and down, lingering on the medal before he glanced down.

“Come here,” Yuri whispered, taking Otabek’s hand and pulling him onto the bed so that Otabek was lying on his back and Yuri was on top of him.

They made out like that for a few lasting minutes before Otabek managed to say, “You should take off your clothes too.”

Yuri murmured in agreement but didn’t stop kissing Otabek’s skin, moving from his jaw to his neck before going down to collarbones and finally his nipples. “Later,” he said as he pressed his mouth right above Otabek’s right nipple and bit it, making Otabek’s back arch off the bed with a loud moan.

“I can’t decide,” Yuri started to say, sitting up on his knees to take off his shirt, “if I want to fuck you like this or if I’d rather have you ride me.” Yuri leaned down until his mouth was hovering above Otabek’s dick. “Any preferences?”

Otabek shoved one of his hands against his mouth to stop himself from moaning too loud as the other squeezed the bed sheets. “Ride you,” he gasped. “I want to ride you.”

Yuri moved to the side to take off his pants, tossing them to the floor without a care. 

He grabbed a bottle of lube from one of the bedside table drawers and was about to open it when Otabek took it from his hands.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch me?” he asked, grinning as he shoved Yuri onto his back and straddled him. He coated his fingers with lube before he pushed one inside himself. Beneath him, Yuri groaned, his hips raising instinctively before he pushed them down.

“You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, Otabek Altin. Sometimes I look at you and I just want to eat you all up and keep you to myself forever. You’re so fucking talented and gorgeous — so goddamn gorgeous — especially when you’re like this, keyed up for me, just me.”

“Just you,” Otabek agreed. Yuri’s words were getting to him, crawling over his skin and raising every hair on his body. Otabek parted his legs wider open and slipped in another finger. 

“The gold looks good on you, babe,” Yuri said before he bit Otabek’s collarbone. Otabek groaned, letting his head fall back on his shoulders. He wondered if Yuri had some kind of gold medal kink while he stared at the ceiling. He’d never expressed interest in doing something with his three Grand Prix medals, though, so maybe it wasn’t that. 

Otabek managed a few more minutes of fingering himself before he pulled his fingers out and decided he’d had enough prep. Any longer and he was going to prove whether spontaneous combustion was possible or not.

“I’m ready,” he said. Yuri pulled him in for another kiss as he guided his cock to Otabek’s entrance, pulling Otabek’s hips down afterwards until he was fully seated on Yuri.

“So fucking perfect. Just look at you.”

Otabek did, looking down to see the medal bouncing against his chest as he rocked against Yuri, first in small movements and then in sharper thrusts when he adjusted to having Yuri inside of him. The gold looked good against his dark skin, but so did having Yuri beneath him, the press of their bodies, the way they moved together in sync.

Otabek couldn’t have stopped the little groans and gasps that slipped past his lips even if he tried, which he made no attempt to. Their angle was perfect, with Yuri’s dick grazing against his prostate every time he pressed down. “I could come just from this,” he confessed. His arms and thighs were starting to burn from the effort it took to ride Yuri combined with his skating from earlier, but the heat just added to it. He enjoyed pushing himself to his limit for — _because of_ — Yuri.

“Do it,” Yuri whispered, grazing his teeth against the hickeys on Otabek’s neck. “Come like this, with your legs spread open for me.”

Otabek moaned and grabbed Yuri’s shoulders for support, fucking himself in earnest for a few more thrusts before he came. He closed his eyes, opening them when he felt Yuri slip out and push him to the side so that Otabek was lying on the bed.

“Want me to finish in you?” he asked even though he knew damn well what the answer would be.

“ _Yes_ ,” Otabek said anyway, making Yuri smile.

A pillow was shoved beneath his butt so that his hips were higher and then Yuri was pulling legs up above his shoulders. Figure skating did wonders for one’s flexibility.

It didn’t take long for Yuri to come, which was a good thing since Otabek was going to pass out any minute now. The day’s events had exhausted him and not even the mix of pain and pleasure he felt being fucked after coming could keep him awake for much longer.

Afterwards, Otabek lay on the bed with his medal sticking to his skin while Yuri cleaned them with a warm cloth. He then threw into the bathroom without looking before he flopped down on the bed.

“We have to get ready soon for the banquet,” Yuri said, making Otabek frown. Right. The banquet. Because both of them were just so damn fond of formal events. “Stop that, we have to go,” Yuri said, making Otabek frown harder.

“I haven’t said anything.”

“Yeah, but I can tell what you’re thinking and I’m not having it. We’re going to the banquet. You won the Grand Prix so it’s now your job and duty to rub that in everyone’s faces. Plus, Victor and Yuuri are bound to make a scene if we don’t keep them in check.”

Otabek snorted. “Last year, Yuuri managed to drag you into a dance competition again—“

“That was last year! And I only agreed because I was drunk and still feeling high from winning. Anyway, you should have been the one to stop that train wreck from happening in the first place,” Yuri argued, pushing himself up on one elbow so that he could look down at Otabek.

“And miss out on all the fun and possible blackmail material? Never.”

“You’re terrible,” Yuri said while leaning over Otabek and lying down on him. “But you do make a good pillow.”

“Didn’t you say we have to go to the banquet?” Otabek asked. Yuri grumbled in reply but he pushed himself up and started rummaging through their suitcases.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said. Otabek followed him, even though what he truly wanted was to pull Yuri beneath the sheets and sleep until he got enough energy to go for round two.

Yuri was the one who bought both their suits, since Otabek’s usual choice of black on gray was, in Yuri’s words, more boring than JJ’s skating. Otabek didn’t regret giving him reigns to his closet since it made his life easier and Yuri had a good eye for fashion. For this event, Otabek wore a royal blue velvet blazer with black slacks and a white shirt. Yuri wore wearing an arctic blazer covered in flowers and white slacks. Just before they headed out, Otabek braided Yuri’s hair so that his bangs was pulled to the side and tucked at the back.

Right after they entered the banquet hall, they were unfortunate enough to run into JJ.

“There you are! Otabek, congratulations on your medal, even though your performance would have stood no chance if I’d been at my full potential today,” JJ hugged Otabek, who didn’t move a single muscle in response. After he took a step back, JJ added, “And you, Yuri… Well, I guess we can’t all be wonder kids forever.”

“You—“ Yuri started to say, cut off by the hand Otabek placed on his arm. 

JJ laughed, looking from one to the other before he winked and disappeared, leaving Yuri metaphorically fuming and Otabek slightly disgruntled.

“I want to set something of his on fire,” Yuri said.

“No.”

“I’ll make it look like an accident. No one will ever suspect I did it.”

Otabek paused, pretending to think over Yuri’s proposal. “That’s slightly better, but you still shouldn’t do it. If anything JJ owns lights on fire everyone in this building will think you did it, even if it’s an accident.”

“Why do you have to be so reasonable all the time,” Yuri grumbled.

“Sorry, guess I just don’t want my boyfriend to go to jail.”

Yuri repeated Otabek’s words in a low mumble to make fun of him. He then ruined the effect by taking Otabek’s hand and dragging him to the center of the hall with a grin. 

They talked with Victor and Yuuri throughout most of the evening. The other couple told them that after this competition they were flying to an orphanage in Siberia, which set off Yuri on a rant about childcare and Victor having to be responsible for once in his life. Otabek wondered if Victor was still going to be Yuri’s coach after he became a dad, but didn’t say anything then. He’d have to talk to Yuri about it later.

Occasionally someone would join their group to congratulate Otabek or to talk to the Yuris and Victor who were, as always, major a source of attention.

The evening was, overall, a rather quiet affair, right until the point Christophe Giacometti sidled up to them with a tray full of shots and said, “Let’s make this night a memorable one, gentlemen.”

Otabek wasn’t a heavy a drinker, but he _had_ won gold at the Grand Prix finals and if that wasn’t a good excuse to take a few questionable shots then there wasn’t one.

“This is a terrible idea,” Yuri protested, but he picked up two shots like everyone else.

“What’s in these?” Victor asked.

“Tequila, rum and a splash of apple juice. Bottoms up!” Giacometti shouted.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur for Otabek. He was sure he had a few more drinks alongside the Yuris, who handled their alcohol as poorly as he did. Victor was a bit better, but he also drank at twice their pace, so that by the time Giacometti pulled out the stripping pole everyone was pretty much wasted.

“Where the fuck does he even keep that? In his pants?” Yuri asked, making Otabek choke on his pink margarita.

He didn’t let either of them get anywhere near the pole, not even after Yuuri challenged Yuri for another dance-off, but they didn’t stay away from the dance floor either. Otabek wasn’t an excellent dancer, but he could lift Yuri with ease and together they sidled and swayed across the floor.

“You can’t blackmail me later if you make an ass out of yourself as well,” Yuri had said when he’d pulled him to the middle of the hall so that they could dance together to Taylor Swift's "Shake it Off".

Otabek had laughed and pulled his boyfriend close. “You know I’ve got you,” he said.

Yuri kissed him on the lips and grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

 

 

 

 

Comments are v appreciated and beloved!

Also, please let me know if you'd like to see more works in the series or if you'd prefer to read something else with Otabek & Yuri!  I'm curious about what people prefer.

Finally, you can come say hi on  [tumblr](http://humanthyla.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! 


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